As great reading goes this isn’t, but it hit me yesterday and I wanted to write it down, if for no other reason than to have it serve as a (?)permanent(?) record of the event in question. I don’t trust hardware or software that much, but I think I might trust it more than my wetware.

A passenger-airliner-sewage-dump-sized chunk of memory fell out of the sky and crashed into me on the road yesterday. Margaret and I were driving through the Kent Valley area returning from an errand, and the phrase “Kent Valley” started bouncing around in my mind, deforming a bit with each ricochet. Kent Valley….Valley of Kent….yea, though I walk through the Valley of Kent….

Finally, I started giggling as I flashed back on a day when I was maybe age ten or eleven, when I walked around the corner to my friend Gavin’s house. His older brother Brian had just finished putting the last touches on a large color poster. Unlike his usual fare of KISS color-by-number jobbies, this was 100% handmade.

It featured a large, angry-looking caveman type, wearing the standard animal-skin wrap and brandishing a club. Above him were the words,

YEA, THOUGH I WALK THROUGH THE VALLEY
OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH, I WILL FEAR NO EVIL
FOR I AM THE BIGGEST, MEANEST SON OF A BITCH
IN THE WHOLE DAMN VALLEY.

Brian and I never had what I would call a cordial relationship, but I did always admire his sense of humor. 😉